


the ballroom floor.

by itsmaz410



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, M/M, Paul wears a dress, bc why n o t, i wrote this while wearing a fur coat, poetic descriptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmaz410/pseuds/itsmaz410
Summary: Dances were seen as especially sacred, an intimate ritual of integration, bringing two individuals closer. It was often intense, emotional and entrancing.alternatively, the beatles dance.





	the ballroom floor.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: mazzy410

The ballroom, draped in silken banners, was spacious, with its high arched ceilings, stained glass windows, and the worn bricks that created the walls. Candle wax dripped as the flames swayed, and the shadows rippled across the room, dark and mysterious.  
There would be a dance tonight.   
Dances were seen as especially sacred, an intimate ritual of integration, bringing two individuals closer. It was often intense, emotional and entrancing. Not a soul would dare interrupt or intervene, nor a word would be spoken from open lips. Dances would begin at exactly midnight, and end at half past.   
Every dance was different. On one occasion, a couple marched in and kicked up their legs, spinning in frantic circles and screaming at the top of their lungs. Another couple simply held hands and swayed. Not one dance would ever be the same.

Tonight's dance was possibly the most impactful dance the observers were to witness. 

A tall, lanky brunette, with brown eyes as warm as the setting sun, entered the ballroom at five minutes before midnight. He drifted in, his lips twitching up into a delicate smile, his lustrous hair brushing over his ears and shoulders. He wore a burgundy velvet blazer, with a silk shirt buttoned up underneath.   
Behind him, entered a shorter man, his blue eyes shining knowingly, his fingers glinting with various flat rings that would possibly cost thousands of dimes. He wore a dark blue silk suit, with a golden badge upon the chest and a finely trimmed hem. The two were quite a pair. 

They stood on the ballroom floor, silent and unmoving. Nobody dared to breathe. 

The clock struck twelve. 

Suddenly, the violin and piano kicked in, loud, longing and desperate. The taller man slowly extended his slim hand toward his partner, eyes dark and inviting. Once they joined hands, the entire atmosphere shifted. The room felt passionate, though it was not as strong as previous times.   
The shorter man twirls, closer to his partner, wrapping himself in his arms. They hold eachother for a moment, eyes closed, emotions radiating from them strongly. Then, the brunette, who the watching crowd had identified as 'George', unwinds and leaps away, watching his parter, Richard, with warm, taunting eyes.   
Richard quickly strokes a hand down his leg, then lifts his fingers high into the air, the rings shimmering in the candlelight. He twists around, meeting George's intense gaze with a little grin. They circle eachother, slow and charged with fervent emotion. 

George breaks the invisible wall of tension with a running leap, then twirls around Richard with careful, calculating steps, his chin held high. He's got a smirk on his face, clearly enjoying himself. Richard leans back, reaching an arm out so his hand drifts over George's. It's a brief touch, but George pulls away, as if he can't handle the amount of love that's poured into their every move.  
Richard kneels, gazing up at his partner's defined face with an adoring smile. Taking George's hand with a tremble in his own, he lowers his head, his lips drifting across the skin. George's face lights up with a warm grin, and he's quickly lifting Richard, up and onto his shoulder, not even straining himself at all. He dances across the ballroom floor, twirling and swaying as Richard closes his eyes and revels in the emotions.  
Soon, Richard's smoothly sliding down from his position, allowing his feet to drag lightly across the floor as he holds George's hand, waltzing slowly together.   
Without warning, the clock strikes half past, and they pull eachother into a deep kiss, hands stroking across shoulders and arms, eyes closing and lips tugged up into sincere, loving smiles.   
They gaze at eachother, eyes brimming with joyful tears, then slowly exit the ballroom.

The crowd is stunned. 

A few nights later, there's another dance. 

The two men that enter the candlelit ballroom were rather well known. Paul McCartney and John Lennon. They were often seen on the dusty streets, speaking quickly to eachother under their breaths, eyes flicking around to watch everyone they passed by. 

The brunette, Paul, is the first to walk in. His hands are fidgety, knuckles sharp as his fingers dance across his hips. His face is softened, round and innocent, with his gaze that was as gentle as feather on skin. His hair is silky, thick strands curling around his ears, falling in his face. He also is clothed in a dress. A white silk dress, with a black peter pan styled collar, the fabric flowing down his legs. A black, thin belt around his waist added to his slim figure.   
His partner, John, is dressed in mysterious black. His hair cascades down his shoulders, all mousey brown and shining in the candlelight. He walked with a cigarette in his hand, smoke drifting upwards into the air. His expression was teasing, a smirk proud upon his lips. His eyes were slightly defensive, ready to bite at anyone who looked upon the two in a mocking sense. He wore a black suit, the tie tucked in sharply, his shoes gleaming with fresh polish. 

The clock chimes.  
The dance has officially begun.

John and Paul instantly separate. Paul's dress is undeniably enticing, becoming the centre of attention for a second as he floats to the edge of the room, the fabric catching in the glowing light of the dripping candles upon the walls. John strides to the opposite side, his legs long and balanced, his head held high. The violin whines softly, slow and measured, while the cello hums so deeply that the floor rumbles. The piano rings out with crisp high notes, wailing along with the music.   
John watches Paul with hungry, dark eyes, lips curling into a grin. It's a much different atmosphere than George and Richard had created. They had a passionate, racing mood that brightened up the shadowy room. The two men seemed to create a feeling of distance, a slight tension in the air, but it wasn't prominent enough to separate them entirely. It also wasn't negative. It felt playful, as though they were teasing eachother. 

Paul's fingers drift over the flowing fabric of his dress as he walks forward with purposeful steps, a little smile gracing his lips. Then John's lifting steadily onto his toes, pirouetting past Paul like an uncontrollable whirlwind. He's rapid as he stops, crouching a little. Paul licks his lips and grins at his partners actions, like a snarl not fit for his pretty face.   
He makes a flying leap, right into John's waiting arms, and they're off, spinning across the ballroom floor at high speed, the cream and midnight colours contrasting boldly. The instrumental in the background lifts up into a roar, growing loud and deafening. The dance is overwhelming, enthralling and powerful, the two men not daring to pause for even a second.  
But the clock shifts to half past midnight, and the music ceases.   
John and Paul meet together in the middle of the floor, and slowly bow to eachother in perfect synchronisation, and they smile, cheekily, as if they know something that others don't. John offers his arm to Paul, chin up, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Paul lets a little snicker fall from his soft lips, and places his hand gently upon John's arm.   
They depart from the ballroom, white and black, giggling to themselves.

The crowd is left in nothing but disbelieving awe.


End file.
